Through the Cracks
by Britani Gael
Summary: When his enemies are out for blood, and Kaiba is unable--or unwilling--to cooperate, Mokuba decides that if his brother won't help himself, he'll just have to do it for him. Needless to say, this makes Kaiba's day a hell of a lot worse...
1. Mistakes

Title: Through the Cracks 

Author: Britani Gael

Series: Yu-Gi-Oh!

Rating: R

Warnings: Violence, Swearing

Summary: Apparently Kaiba never heard of Murphy's Law, or maybe he just thought that it didn't apply to him. But when his enemies are out for blood, and Kaiba is unable--or unwilling--to cooperate, Mokuba decides that if his brother won't help himself, he'll just have to do it for him. Needless to say, this makes Kaiba's day a hell of a lot worse...

Author's Notes: Much (much) thanks to my friend Ayu Ohseki, without whom this plot would have crashed and burned. She also came up with the villians name, and a nice bit of symbolism, besides. Her influence also made the plot a great deal darker...but ah, well. She's a cool person, anyway. 

Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh is the intellectual property of Kazuki Takahashi, and is being used in this fanfiction for fan purposes only. All situations, opinions and characters not belonging to Kazuki Takahashi are the intellectual property of Britani Gael. The hell with being clever, let's hear it for prewritten disclaimers... 

* * *

Chapter One: Mistakes

_"The highest realization of warfare is to attack the enemy's plans…"_

Sun-Tzu, _The__ Art of War_

* * *

Damn, it was a long way down.

He never once considered jumping, though he knew that someone else in the same situation as him might. And maybe that other person had a point. Well, suicide had never seemed like a good out to him. Maybe it was because he was still half-convinced that he could never lose at anything, and taking a header off a cliff would be rather akin to admitting defeat.

Seto Kaiba took a step back from the edge. It had to be after midnight by now, and that meant that they were late. There could be a number of reasons as to why, and none of them were good. He was counting on the enemy's predictability.

That was one possible explanation: they were trying to throw him off. That just pissed him off. As if they hadn't fucked with him enough already.

The fact that they had chosen such an isolated place for the meeting hadn't passed Kaiba's notice. If he screwed this up, he expected to be found floating in the murky waters below sometime tomorrow. Perhaps the day after. Too bad he wouldn't be around to see if he was right.

He wasn't going to screw up.

There would be two of them, at least. They would have guns, something he was lacking. But he would have surprise on his side, since they wouldn't be expecting him to fight back with so much at stake. And, since tipping the scales any way he could certainly wouldn't hurt, he had also brought something else: a slim knife, slipped up the sleeve of his coat.

It was several minutes before he heard the sound he had been waiting for, the sound of crunching gravel, accompanied by the faint growl of a car engine. He looked up, and saw two points of light weaving themselves between the trees.

The car moved neither fast or slow, pulling itself out of the small thicket of trees and up the road Kaiba had hiked up close to an hour ago. He had had his driver drop him off some miles away, giving some excuse he couldn't really remember. He didn't want anyone knowing about this little meeting.

In other words, no backup plan.

The car ground to a stop about twenty feet away, the headlights directly in his face. He looked away and took a step to the side, and then tried to make out who was in the car, but the glare was still too much. So he stood, and he waited.

The engine didn't go off and neither did the headlights, giving the whole area a pale white wash. Instead, the rear two doors opened, and two men stepped out.

They were both tall, square jawed, with neatly pressed black suits. They might have been identical if it hadn't been for their facial expressions. One of them had a blank, serious look, the stereotypical man-in-black, while the other had a grim smile on his face. They both held their guns in plain sight.

The driver didn't get out, Kaiba noted. Perhaps they were in a hurry.

The smiling one reached back into the car, and hauled something out, before slamming the door. His partner shut his door as well.

"Nii-sama!"

The voice made Kaiba cringe, and he sincerely hoped that they were too far away to notice. 

The man held Mokuba with a grip on his arm, and while the gun wasn't actually pointing at his brother, it was far too close for comfort. Mokuba wasn't even struggling, he had probably given up on that a long time ago.

The two men walked towards Kaiba, and came to a stop about ten feet away, maybe a little less. Mokuba walked with them, a desperate look on his face.

"Nii-sama, they're going to—"

The man holding him hit Mokuba on the side of the head sharply with the butt of his gun. Mokuba gasped in pain.

Kaiba held himself still, nearly biting a hole through his lip in the process. He considered reinstating his threat that he would kill anyone who touched Mokuba.

No point. He was going to kill them anyway.

"Let him go," Kaiba said, almost managing to capture the cool collectiveness he was going for.

The smiling goon looked towards the serious one, who was probably the one in charge. The serious one shook his head. "Do you have it?" he asked.

Kaiba reached a hand into his coat pocket, and his fingers curled around a small plastic case. He pulled the disk out, and held it up so they could see it.

"How do we know that has the information?" the serious one asked.

"I don't know and I don't care," Kaiba said dryly. But the truth was, he had been wondering the exact same thing. The answer he had come to was that they didn't actually need him to bring them the information; it would just make it easier on them if he did. "Let him go," Kaiba repeated.

Smiler again looked to Serious, who shrugged. Like it didn't really matter. Very loud warning bells might have gone off in Kaiba's head, if he hadn't already had a good idea of their plans to begin with.

The man holding Mokuba let him go with a shove, sending Mokuba onto his hands and knees on the ground, and Kaiba almost snapped. 

It didn't seem to matter to Mokuba, though. Scrambling to his feet, he covered the distance between them, and threw his arms around his brother. He buried his face into the folds of Kaiba's coat, crying quietly.

Kaiba let a comforting hand drop to Mokuba's shoulder, but didn't take his eyes off the two men. 

"The disk," the serious one said.

Kaiba studied them for a few more seconds. They held their guns lazily, pointed between the ground and him. That could change in less than a second, he knew. He would have to be quick.

He tossed the disk in the dirt between them, underhand. Then he shifted his right arm slightly. The knife slid into his hand. He hoped that this would go as he had imagined it. 

His grip on Mokuba's shoulder tightened.

The serious man took a step forward, and bent down to pick up the disk.

Kaiba struck out with a sharp kick to the face, shoving Mokuba to the ground. The man fell backwards, with a surprised yell.

He rushed the second man before he had a chance to shoot, using his left had to pull the gun to the side. The man pulled the trigger by reflex, sending a few bullets spinning off harmlessly into the night. With his right hand, Kaiba sank the blade up to the hilt.

The man's face went slack, his mouth hung open. Both arms dropped to clutch his stomach. He fell back like the man before him had, but seemingly in slow motion, and without a sound.

"Nii-sama!"

Kaiba spun around. The other man had gotten to his feet, his blank expression replaced with one of panic and pain. He was raising his gun.

Mokuba barreled into him, knocking him off balance. He recovered in a second, but it was a second too late.

Kaiba grabbed the gun hand and twisted it hard, and pulled the weapon out of his grasp easy. He used it to cuff the man on the head, before dropping the gun to the side. He then twisted the man's arm behind his back, taking a calculated step back. The he sent the man spinning with a shove, releasing his grip.

Kaiba, of course, had been careful to keep track of where the edge was throughout the fight. His opponent had probably wished he had done the same.

The man stumbled back a few steps, before his feet discovered the lack of ground. He spun his arms, bent and twisted almost comically, trying to regain his balance. Then he was gone. He hadn't even screamed.

The entire exchange had taken less than a minute.

It wasn't until he heard the car door open that he remembered the driver. 

Now he was the one who was too late.

* * *

"Well?"

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, longer than necessary. "They're dead, sir."

Masuda sat up quickly, then he relaxed. "I assume you aren't talking about the Kaiba brothers," he said smoothly, his voice showing no signs of his momentary panic.

"Of _course_ I'm not talking about the Kaiba brothers. I'm talking about my men!"

"Hmm, yes, well, mercenaries come, mercenaries go." Masuda sat back in his chair, idly shuffling papers around on his desk. "You'll find replacements for them soon, will you not?"

"Not soon, they're not that easy to replace. They were the best I—"

Masuda snorted. "Apparently, they weren't good enough. How were they killed?"

"Various ways. It seems that Kaiba was carrying a knife."

"So what? Your men had guns." Masuda sighed. Oh well, perhaps this was for the best. "A knife can't cut from a foot away. Your men let Kaiba get close, that was their mistake."

"Sir, I—"

"Yes?"

"Understood, sir. Do you have any further instructions?"

"Hmm, yes. Prepare five, perhaps ten men. Make sure they are competent. Then wait for my instructions." After all, since obviously you can't handle these things on your own, I must spoon-feed directions to you.

Again, a very long pause. "Understood." The crack of the phone hanging up was enough to make Masuda wince, if he hadn't been expecting it.

Masuda leaned forward and switched the speakerphone off.

So things hadn't gone as he planned. It didn't matter. In fact, it almost made Masuda smile. This was just proof that Kaiba was caught in a trap that even he couldn't get out of. That thought was strangely satisfying.

And anyway, Masuda was beginning to doubt the wisdom behind his plan. Killing the boy, destroying the company…it wasn't right, somehow.

It wasn't enough.

* * *


	2. Sinking

Chapter Two: Sinking

_"If one who finds that the majority of factors favor him will be victorious, while one who has found few factors favor him will be defeated, what about someone who finds no factors in his favor?"_

Sun-Tzu, _The Art of War_

* * *

Seto Kaiba was a monster.

Barely fifteen years old, and he thought he owned the world. And yet, even as Settou Masuda sat there, hating the boy, he had to admit there was something to admire about such confidence.

"That's unacceptable," Kaiba said, and only the cold edge to his voice backed up his words. His face was a carefully crafted mask, showing a rather generic combination of distaste and amusement. The mask never changed, never when Masuda saw him.

Masuda could feel, rather than see, his father's discomfort. The elder Masuda had a lot more on the line than Kaiba did, and both of them were keenly aware of it. His father shifted slightly in his seat.

"I beg you to reconsider, Mr. Kaiba. The benefits of such a deal—"

"Are entirely irrelevant to me." Kaiba's tone had changed, now it was simply bored. Masuda found himself wondering what Kaiba was really thinking, really feeling.

His father lowered his head. "Mr. Kaiba, sir, I—"

"Apparently have nothing to offer," Kaiba said, interrupting again. "And had I known that, I would not have agreed to this meeting."

A lie. You could tell from the way Kaiba's eyes glinted. Like a predator. Kaiba knew everything about the situation. Kaiba was not surprised.

If Masuda hadn't been forbidden to participate in the conversation, he might have said something. But the situation was as it was, and he remained still.

He remained silent as he watched his father's gaze slip to the top of the polished tabletop. "Mr. Kaiba, you don't understand," he said softly. "This company…it is my life. It's all I worked for, I built it from the ground up…"

"Unlike me, correct? After all, I merely inherited my company."

"That's not it. Mr. Kaiba, I—"

"I apologize, Mr. Masuda," Kaiba said, though that was so untrue it was nearly laughable. "I am not here to show you compassion, I am here to make money. You will accept my terms, or there will not be a deal at all. Do you understand?"

Masuda saw his father still straighter in his chair, and he met Kaiba's gaze head on—perhaps one of the last times he would ever see boldness in his father.

But it was gone in a moment. His father bowed his head, and nodded.

"I understand."

It wouldn't be the last time Kaiba won. 

* * *

Kaiba didn't wake up so much as he faded back into reality. 

He was in bed. Not a particularly comfortable bed, but a bed none the less. His bed? No. 

A dull pain, that ran from his right shoulder down his chest...he'd been shot, he remembered that. He'd killed the man who'd done, it, too, unless the guy could survive five bullets to the head. Someone who's trying to kill you can never be dead enough. 

Mokuba...was all right? Maybe...he wasn't seriously injured, Kaiba would've known, but he hadn't been treated kindly. He had said something about his chest hurting, maybe. Mokuba hadn't said much, actually. Maybe broken ribs, the doctor... 

The doctor. Bastard doctor had given Kaiba drugs when he would've been fine without them. Morphine, or something like it, enough to make everything...fuzzy. 

Mokuba hadn't said much of anything because Mokuba was scared shitless. Bastards had held him for three days without so much as a word. He'd kill them... 

Kaiba opened his eyes. 

His eyes focused on the place where the wall met the ceiling, and then slowly scrolled down. There was a framed picture of a random landscape on the wall, featuring a stark tree and a lot of grass. This succeeded in telling him that this was no place he owned. 

His eyes started moving sideways. 

Two closed doors, a small counter with a tiny sink and a microwave. To the right, another equally tiny refrigerator, a chair with his brother curled up in it, a window with the drapes pulled shut tight, another chair with most of his clothes in it, and a nightstand with a black bag and a digital clock on it. 

Six twenty-three p.m. 

They'd checked into this hotel around two in the morning last night, and that meant that they'd been here for over sixteen hours. That was far too long.

Once he thought he was awake enough to do so, he sat up, biting his lip against the pain. 

The doctor he had called had done his job well, it seemed. Nearly his entire upper chest was neatly wrapped up in gauze, and his right arm was held in a sling. That was no good, he was going to need his arm. 

He turned his attention to the black bag on the nightstand. He pulled it onto the bed, and managed to get the clasp open with only one hand. He started rifling through it, and found a good supply of bandages, and two pill bottles. Painkillers--something heavy--and antibiotics to prevent infection. 

After putting the rest away, he pulled out two pills of both of the kinds he had. His still drug-laced mind briefly entertained the thought that Mokuba wasn't sleeping but dead, the pills were poison, and masked men were hiding in the closet to cart both their bodies away. 

Well, in that case he was screwed. He took the pills. 

If working up to sitting up was a challenge, it was nothing compared to working up to standing. 

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, and stood straight up. He managed to keep his balance. Barely. When the spots of color in front of his eyes faded, he slowly walked over the to chair with his clothes in it. 

The chair held everything he wasn't wearing. His shirt and his jacket were completely soaked with blood, not to mention the fact that they both had a couple of large holes in them. The jacket he had lifted from one of the men he had killed was the same it had always been--ugly--but had been useful in getting into the hotel without the clerk calling the police. He tossed it on the floor. 

He was going to need another shirt. 

He walked over to the closed doors, with a detour to pick up the black bag the doctor had left. The first door he tried was a closet. No masked men jumped out at him. The second one was the bathroom. He walked inside, and shut the door behind him. 

Changing his bandages was slow going, especially since he soon discovered that there was a good reason for the sling: using his right arm bordered on excruciating pain. When he was finally finished, he replaced the sling. When he exited the bathroom, he checked the clock. Seven-oh-seven. Time to go. 

He walked over to the other chair, the one with his brother in it. He had expected Mokuba to be rather difficult to wake, with everything that he had been through he must have been exhausted. 

Instead, he had barely touched Mokuba's shoulder when the boy jerked back like a wounded animal. His entire body tensed, and he pressed up against the back of the chair. His eyes snapped open, but when he made eye contact with Kaiba, he relaxed. 

"Nii-sama, I--" he started, sitting up. 

Kaiba shook his head. He reached into his back pocket, pulling out the last of his cash. "There should be a gift shop downstairs. Can you buy us both some new clothes?" 

Mokuba nodded, accepting the money silently. He slid off the chair, and slid the bills into his pocket. 

Mokuba looked pretty bad, worse than a long trip could possibly account for. His hair was a tangled mess, he wore the same clothes he had worn to school four days ago; they were covered in dirt and ripped in several places. A set of fresh stitches stood out on his forehead, along with a couple bruises on both cheeks and dark circles under his eyes. 

Kaiba knew from the mirror in the bathroom that he looked even worse. He vaguely wondered how they had gotten into the hotel at all. Well, maybe the night crew here was impossibly stupid, but it was unlikely that Mokuba was going to be able to pass unnoticed downstairs. 

"Brush your hair and wash your face before you go," Kaiba said, trying to ignore the exhaustion that was creeping into his voice. Christ, he'd only been walking around for twenty minutes, tops. As Mokuba nodded and walked towards the bathroom, Kaiba took a few steps back and sat back down on the bed. 

Mokuba was gone and back in less than fifteen minutes. He had changed his clothes before he came back, now he was wearing a new pair of jeans and a cheap white T-shirt that had "Welcome to Domino City!" painted across the front. 

Kaiba was less than pleased when Mokuba handed him his clothes, which were almost identical to Mokuba's with the exception of size, and also a dark blue sweatshirt, which had the hotel's logo printed on the back.

"Sorry, Nii-sama," Mokuba said quickly. "It's all they had." 

"That's alright," Kaiba muttered, even though it really wasn't. Bad enough that he was being chased by homicidal psychopaths whose motives he had yet to determine, now he had to dress like a Goddamned tourist. 

He walked to the bathroom, and got dressed quickly enough. When he was done, he replaced the sling with a sigh. He was going to need it for a bit longer. 

It was seven twenty-three. One hour since he had woken up. 

There was little to pack. They gathered their clothes. Kaiba made sure to take the blood soaked garments with them, he wanted to avoid people asking questions.

"Where are we going, Nii-sama?" Mokuba asked, his voice sounding more than uncertain, like he was almost afraid to ask. 

The only place they could. "Home."

* * *


	3. Odds

Chapter Three: Odds

_"One who excels at warfare compels men and is not compelled by men."_

Sun-Tzu, _The__ Art of War_

Kaiba was a patient man, he didn't mind waiting.

He should have learned by then that repeating lies to himself didn't make them true, but he continued to do it just the same.  He didn't mind waiting helplessly for his enemy to strike.  It didn't interfere with his plans at all.  No, it _was_ his plan.  Prepare his defenses while he had the chance, so that what happened last time wouldn't—

The phone rang, startling Kaiba out of his thoughts and causing his fingers to slip on the keys, leaving a string of random characters across the screen of his laptop. Cursing to himself, he slammed the laptop shut.

He seethed at himself for the span of two rings.  Getting jumpy about a phone call, what the hell was happening to him?  On the third ring, he answered it.  "What is it?"

"Mr. Kaiba?" a friendly female voice on the other end said.  Her apparent cheerfulness destroyed any chances she might have had for a civil conversation.

"Considering the fact that you had to get through at least two secretaries, probably three, to get to me, I'd say the odds aren't good that you dialed a wrong number."

She hesitated.  "This…is Mr. Kaiba, then?"

Kaiba didn't envy the woman her job, getting paid minimum wage to bother people with stupid questions.  "What do you want?"

"Is this Mr. Kaiba?" she repeated very slowly.

Since she obviously had to get undeniable confirmation that he was indeed, Seto Kaiba, and he didn't feel the need to torment random secretaries, he gave in.  "Yes, I'm Kaiba.  What is it?"

"Oh, good," she said.  "Please hold."

There was a click, and the soothing elevator music started playing.

Kaiba stared at the receiver for a few seconds, then he hung it up hard enough to send the phone flying off his desk, landing on the floor with a clatter of plastic.  He stared at the phone for a few more seconds, and thought he could hear a faint dial tone.

This didn't bother him.  No, not Seto Kaiba.  Seto Kaiba did not get jumpy about the phone ringing.  It didn't concern him that, sooner or later, _he_ would call.

He stood up and stepped around the desk.  After a brief inspection to make sure the phone wasn't broken, he placed it back on his desk.  He raised the receiver to his ear, and when the dial tone informed him that call had been disconnected, he hung it up.

He had barely sat back down in his chair when it started ringing again.

He answered it before the first ring stopped.  "What is it?"

"No time for formalities, I see.  How's the arm, Kaiba?  I hear that you've recovered remarkably."

He recognized the voice immediately, though he'd only heard it once before.  "It's fine," he snapped.  Not true, it still hurt like hell, but he'd gotten better at hiding the pain in the last few days.  

"I suppose I could ask you where your brother is, but doubtless you've been aware of your brother's every move for the past week and a half.  Am I right?"  The words came in a steady stream, smooth and probably scripted.

Kaiba's first impulse was to hang up, but he knew that'd be the wrong move, so he didn't say anything at all.  Instead he held the receiver in a death grip, as if it was the enemy's windpipe he was crushing, rather than a simple piece of plastic.

"I mean, despite the fact that the boy's not even speaking to you, and you have far too many responsibilities to watch him yourself, I'm sure that doesn't stop you from employing a dozen or so employees to spy on him."

Asking where the man got his information was pointless.  He had it, he was still getting it, that was all that mattered.  Kaiba wasn't about to instigate a witch hunt, looking for the traitor among his employees.  He'd never find them, and he'd look like a paranoid idiot trying.  "State your business or leave me the fuck alone."

"Ah, straight to the point.  Pity there isn't one, I'm just trying to irritate you.  Rather similar to what you did to my secretary just minutes ago, isn't it?"

Again, Kaiba was tempted to hang up.  Instead, he scowled at an invisible enemy a few inches in front of his face, and remained silent.

"Not in the mood for talking?  Funny, that.  Last time you were so busy shouting and threatening me that I could barely get a word in."

"Different circumstances."

"The difference being that, unlike last time, you are thoroughly in control of the situation, and I am holding none of the cards.  That's why you're still on the phone, because you have nothing better to do than talk to me."

Kaiba saw a foothold, a chance at gaining a margin of control in this conversation.  "And you obviously have nothing better to do than harass me.  Perhaps your diabolical plans aren't going as well as you'd hoped."

Silence.

Kaiba smirked.  "Well, if you have nothing more to say…"

"Your lack of action is confusing me a bit, Kaiba.  You haven't even tried to find out who I am?"

Kaiba's smirk grew.  "And it bothers you, doesn't it?"  Slightly insightful.  Well, if this man wanted him to go looking, than that was the last thing Kaiba was going to do.  "You're assuming that I'm worried enough to care that much about you."

But after he said it, Kaiba knew that he'd taken his advantage a step too far.

The man chuckled.  "Oh, you don't think you can find me, then.  Interesting, it's not like you don't have plenty of leads.  Your brother was, after all, in my custody for nearly seventy-two hours.  You'd think he would've picked up some sort of clues in that time.  Oh, but that's right, he's not speaking to you."

Kaiba felt what little control he had slipping away.  Again, he got the feeling that the man's speech was preplanned.  

"He didn't seem like the silent type, not when I spoke to him.  In fact, all he would talk about was you.  He wasn't worried, he said.  His nii-sama was sure to rescue him.  Probably on his way as we were speaking."

Kaiba fought the urge to defend himself.  He _had_ rescued Mokuba, after all.  His brother was safe.  Seriously traumatized, but safe.

"That was, oh, let me see, six hours in.  Tell me, Kaiba, at that time, had you even noticed he was missing?"

The comment might have had more punch if Kaiba hadn't strolled down the same train of thought a number of times by himself.   But that didn't mean it didn't sting.

"Nine o'clock at night and you hadn't even noticed that your precious little brother hadn't come home.  Was work late that night?  Or perhaps you just didn't notice that lack of after school Seto worship."

Kaiba jumped to his feet, his left hand a tight fist at his side.  "Shut up." A pathetic response.  He just as well might've admitted that he'd lost then and there.

"He doesn't worship you quite as much now, does he?  Tell me, Kaiba, how does it feel to be a complete and utter failure in the one thing you should be good at?"

Kaiba didn't hang up.  No, he hurled the receiver back into its cradle, again sending the entire phone tumbling off his desk and onto the floor.  He didn't bother picking it up.  He sank back into him chair.

Baited.  Stupid.  If he died because of that then he deserved everything he got.

* * *

His brother wanted to see him.

Mokuba knew that shouldn't frighten him, but it didn't stop him from being terrified, just the same.  He wasn't afraid of Seto, he _couldn't_ be afraid of him, even though he'd seen him kill three people without even blinking, one of them even after he'd been shot himself.  

There had been so much blood…

None of it his.  That was important.  He'd been in more danger than anyone.  After all, he was the only one that was supposed to die.  

He shouldn't have known that.  They didn't _tell him that.  But everyone was there because of him.  In fact, everything was happening because of him.  If his brother found out that he…_

Wasn't afraid.  Nope.  Not at all.

The ride from his school to the Kaiba Corporation building wasn't a long one.  He wanted to ask the driver to stall.  He sometimes did that.  But now they were reporting everything, probably, and he didn't want Seto to know that he didn't want to come.

Now Mokuba was standing right outside the office, and someone was bound to notice that he wasn't going in.  

He took a deep breath, and reached for the door knob.  It didn't turn.

Locked.  Damnit.

He let his hand drop, and fumed.  This was stupid.  This was so.  Damn.  Stupid.  He should have been embarrassed, he should have been ashamed, and he should have had the guts to knock on the stupid door.

He raised his hand again, but before he could move to knock the door swung open.

Mokuba's gaze immediately dropped to the ground, before he remembered the whole stupidity thing and forced himself to look up at his brother.  He inwardly cringed, Seto looked so pale, so sick.  His arm must still have been hurting, and he must have been worried.

"Nii-sama, I…"

Seto stepped aside, and Mokuba walked into the office silently, head down.  The door slammed behind him, and he jumped.  He realized something that hadn't been apparent on Seto's blank face: his brother was furious.

Maybe he…?

Mokuba walked over to the sofa, and sat down on it without a word, keeping his eyes fixed on the floor.  He found he had the desire to hyperventilate or cry or both.  No good.  He forced his breathing to remain steady, he studied the speck on the carpet.

"Mokuba."  There was an edge to Seto's voice, a false calm.  It was too quiet.

"Yes?"

"What is the name of the man that took you?"

Took.  Property.  Toy.  _Game._

"I—I don't know."

I'm not afraid of you, you stupid bastard.

"Mokuba…" Mokuba stole a look up, and saw that Seto wasn't looking at him but at his desk.  He looked so…tired, right now.  He knew Mokuba was lying and he didn't know why.  He couldn't.

You can't touch nii-sama.  He's better than you and he'll win.

He was betraying his brother.  But he had to, to save him.  Did that make it alright?

"Mokuba," Seto started again.  "Just…go."

I'm sorry.  I'm really, really sorry.

He walked out of the room, he couldn't even hear his own footsteps, he was so quiet.  He opened and shut the door just as quietly.  He didn't look up at anybody.  He wondered if Seto had locked the door behind him.

Probably.

* * *


End file.
